Sweet Love 2x: Miss Ruthless CEO for our Superstar Uncle

Chapter 396: Stay With Me

Gilbert and Audrey left shortly after confirming that Arianne and the baby were both safe and healthy. Audrey had squeezed Franz’s shoulder and told him to get some sleep. Gilbert had looked at the bassinet, at the tiny bundle wrapped in the hospital blanket, and shaken his head with something between wonder and disbelief.

"She actually did it," he’d said. "Arianne. A mother."

"Don’t let her hear you say it like that. She’ll think you doubted her," Franz said.

"I didn’t doubt her. I just never expected—" He’d stopped, searching for the right words. "She’s changed. She’s not the same person who told us she’d never have children."

"She’s the same person. She wanted different things."

Gilbert had nodded. "I’m happy for her. For both of you. We’ll get out of your way now. Let you have some time alone."

They left with promises to return later in the week, when things had settled and Arianne was ready for more visitors. The door closed behind them, and the hospital room fell into a hush.

Midnight.

The hospital had gone to its nighttime rhythms: the distant hum of the ventilation system, the occasional soft footfall in the corridor, nothing more. The baby had already been fed. Arianne had held him against her chest, skin to skin, his tiny body warm and solid and impossibly fragile, while Franz watched with a feeling he had no name for. Something between awe and terror and a love so overwhelming it made his chest ache.

Now the baby was asleep in the bassinet beside Arianne’s bed, wrapped tightly in a white blanket with tiny blue stripes. His face was peaceful, his miniature fingers curled into fists, his dark hair like Arianne’s hair, thick and dark even as a newborn, sticking up in soft tufts.

Arianne was exhausted. Sixteen hours of labor, the delivery, the adrenaline crash — her body had finally surrendered to the weight of it all. Her eyes kept drifting closed, her head sinking toward the pillow, and Franz watched her fight to stay awake.

"You should sleep," he said.

"I’m fine."

"You’re not fine. You just gave birth. Sleep."

She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. She was too tired to argue.

"Stay with me?"

"I’m not going anywhere."

He pulled the chair close to her bed and sat down. Her hand found his, her fingers curling weakly around his palm. He reached up with his free hand and worked through her hair, separating it into sections. She had been too tired to braid it herself, and he had learned how to do this during her pregnancy, when her arms gave out before she could finish.

"You’re braiding my hair," she murmured, her eyes already closed.

"You like it when I braid your hair."

"I do. It’s nice."

He finished the braid and let it fall over her shoulder. "Sleep. I’ll watch over both of you."

"What about you? You need to sleep too."

"I will. Later."

Her breathing slowed, her hand going slack in his. Within moments, she was asleep.

Franz stayed awake.

He watched her breathe, the steady rise and fall of her chest, the way her face had relaxed into something peaceful. He watched the baby in the bassinet: the tiny movements of his hands, the soft sounds he made in his sleep. The smile that had been on Franz’s face since the moment the doctor placed his son in his arms hadn’t faded. He didn’t think it ever would.

He didn’t sleep. He didn’t want to. He wanted to sit here in this room, in the low light and the hush, and watch over the two people who meant more to him than anything in the world.

He thought, at some point in the small hours, about the year that had brought them here. The investigation that had shadowed every month of Arianne’s pregnancy. The device in the Lion, the security overhaul, the questions that had no answers. All of it was waiting for them on the other side of this room, on the other side of this night. But right now, in this moment, the only things that existed were Arianne’s slow breathing and his son’s small fists and the silence between them.

He sat in it and let himself have it.

He thought about the first time he had seen Arianne. Not the first time in the boardroom, when she was already armored and immovable, but the first time he had seen her off guard, the moment before she knew he was watching. There had been something in her face, something unguarded and tired and very human, that had lodged in him without his permission and refused to leave. He hadn’t understood it then. He understood it now.

He understood a great many things now that he hadn’t then.

They had agreed on the name three months ago, in the kitchen at the estate, Arianne sitting across from him with her hands wrapped around a mug of tea, the name coming out of her before she’d finished the thought. The baby stirred once in the bassinet. Franz was on his feet before he’d made a conscious decision to move. But the baby settled, his face smoothing back into sleep, and Franz stood there watching him until he was certain.

Then he sat back down, took Arianne’s hand, and watched the darkness outside the window begin its slow change.

He had thought, before tonight, that he understood what it meant to love someone. He had been wrong — not about the fact of it, but about the scale. He had understood it the way you understand a word before you’ve ever used it in a sentence. He understood it differently now. He understood it the way you understand cold water when you’ve been in it for an hour. The way you understand weight when you’ve been the one carrying it.

He held her hand. Outside the window, the darkness had begun to thin at the edges. He counted the hours until morning came.